


I Change Shapes

by thekurosakiconundrum



Series: you say it's your birthday [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Birthday Sex, Blackberries, Camping, Character Study, Established Relationship, Feels, Love, M/M, Mild Angst, Outdoor Sex, Summer, Thunderstorms, Weirdness, foodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekurosakiconundrum/pseuds/thekurosakiconundrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmjow and Ichigo go on a backpacking trip for Grimmjow's birthday, during which they have fun with blackberries, encounter a thunderstorm, and are both utterly in love and a little fucked-up.</p><p>Post-canon, established relationship. I tried to write something schmoopy and fluffy and this happened instead. For Grimmjow's birthday, 7/31, a bit belatedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Change Shapes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, readers!
> 
> I feel silly for posting half of this the other day. It's complete now. I decided it was also silly to have it as two chapters, so it's just one. The beginning part is the same. Happy late birthday, Grimmjow : )
> 
> Also I changed the title. The new title is from the Mike Snow song "Animal" which I envision Ichigo liking because it reminds him of his semi-domesticated Grimmjow.
> 
> "I change shapes just to hide in this place, but I'm still, I'm still an animal.  
> Nobody knows it but me; when I slip, yeah, I slip, I'm still an animal."
> 
> You know, you don't see a lot of established relationship GrimmIchi. I wonder if that's because they are super fun to imagine getting together but kind of hard to visualize as a functional couple? I mean, Grimmjow is a bit hard to visualize as a functional person just on his own (this excludes certain AU Grimmjows.) Anyway, here is how I think our boys might look some years (I'm placing this one around 5-8 years later) down the road if they got together. 
> 
> This could be considered to be in the same verse as "The Arrancar Talks" but doesn't need to be. Ichigo is 20 in that story so he'd be in his mid-late twenties here.
> 
> Warning for mentions of vore, because hollows. Also the hunting and eating of a wild animal happens offscreen and is discussed--vegans, beware.
> 
> Please enjoy, and drop me a line to let me know what works for you and what doesn't.
> 
> KC (who has realized she embodies the fanfiction stereotype of long author's notes but can't bring herself to delete any of it.)

“Man,” Ichigo sighed contentedly, flopping onto his back. “That was awesome.”

“Mmm,” Grimmjow agreed, equally content. 

“I feel like a caveman,” Ichigo said, not sounding displeased by this at all. “My lips are all greasy and my hair smells like smoke.”

“Meat, fire, good,” Grimmjow agreed, cracking a smile. He liked feeling like a caveman. Hunt and kill a thing, cook it, eat it, and you’ve automatically got yourself a good day. 

“Seriously, I’ve never had wild boar meat before,” Ichigo enthused. “It’s like pork, but… _more_.”

“An’ I have?” Grimmjow asked, amused and a little charmed by Ichigo’s excitement.

“Well, probably not….” Ichigo admitted. “But I mean I’ve never had anything hunted at all.”

“Neither have I, here. Other than that… it’s different,” Grimmjow pointed out. For one, he certainly hadn’t cooked his fellow Adjuchas. He snorted inwardly—yeah, like that was the most salient difference. Heh, maybe he should have tried it, though.

He did not share these thoughts with Ichigo, who, though he had grown used to Grimmjow’s, ah, _particular_ sense of humor, probably wouldn’t find the mental image of his Adjuchas self roasting a Hollow over a fire as funny as he did. He could have put it on a spit…

An easy silence fell as the two of them companionably contemplated their own thoughts. It had taken the two of them a while to master that whole concept, Grimmjow reflected. To not poke and prod at each other constantly had been a struggle at first, but they had it down well enough now. 

Grimmjow took a sip of his beer, glad Ichigo had overridden his protestations that they weren’t taking anything but themselves and the most minimal supplies on this little trip and brought along a six-pack (as well as a bottle of something a little stronger if they got to feeling festive.) The flavor of it went well with the roasted meat… though he thought its addition made him feel more like a viking than a caveman. Well, Grimmjow would have made a kickass viking. Hey, maybe he (in the loosest sense of the word) had once _been_ a kickass viking. Had he been around that long? He had no real idea. Probably not, he thought, but he couldn’t say with any certainty.

The raiding and pillaging life would have suited him. If he’d had to adapt to that after Hueco Mundo instead of the… how did Ichigo put it that time he took the class on existentialism? “The soul-crushing meaninglessness, artificiality, and tedium of modernity,” that was it. What a fucking mouthful. It did sum it up rather nicely, though. If he’d had to adapt to the viking life instead of that, things probably would have gone more easily for him. 

Of course, he’d want Ichigo by his side in any case. Ichigo… would Ichigo have made a good viking? Hmm… Grimmjow was gonna give that one a no, no matter how hot Ichigo would look decked out in leather and fur, holding a sword and spattered—no, bathed—in the blood of their enemies. He’d be the one who was good at fighting and fierce in battle but hated it. No… not hated it, exactly. Hated that he loved it, maybe. A remorseful berserker.

Well, weren’t those guys farmers while they weren’t fighting? Ichigo could handle the farming. That was one thing that Grimmjow would never in a million years have any desire to do.

Agriculture? Yeah, fuck that. Hunter-gatherer all the way, even if you didn’t have beer. It seemed a bit of a shame that they couldn’t live like this for real, that they’d have to go back to city life in a couple more days, Grimmjow thought. The anticipation of returning made his insides go tense, the feeling strongest low in his abdomen, about where the hole was when he wasn’t wearing this gigai. He had learned names for feelings… Melancholy, he thought. Anxiety. Wistfulness. 

He wanted to stay here forever, in the woods with Ichigo, just the two of them and the wide wilderness theirs for the taking, roaming as they pleased. They could make a snug little cabin and bed down for the winter when it got too cold, keeping each other warm in a bed made of furs while the snow piled up outside.

Oh, but it was good to be here. Grimmjow had been totally stunned when Ichigo had produced a pair of backpacks stocked with camping supplies and told him they were going on a three day backpacking trip in honor of Grimmjow’s birthday. 

It felt amazing to be out of the city. He tolerated Karakura well enough—it was certainly better than their brief hitch in Tokyo—but it was so incredibly freeing to leave the world behind for a little while. To get away from the daily grind, from all the _machines_ , from the metal and the pavement, from the shopping malls and the screens with moving pictures on them, bright and loud and intrusive. 

Grimmjow would never forget the view from Tokyo Tower—it was so high, you could see so far, and it was _all city_. Out to the horizon, miles and miles of it. Just block after block of concrete and steel and people and lights shining in the dark, multicolored and lurid. So many fucking _people,_ jammed in like sardines in a can, jammed in like maggots in a week-old trash bag in high summer. Standing at the top of Tokyo Tower, it was like places like this didn’t exist and the whole world was covered in city.

Fuck, it made him nauseous just thinking about it, that… hive, that nest, that seething mass of humanity and their creation. It had terrified him, for reasons he still couldn’t quite make into words. Terrified was perhaps not quite the right word… Repulsed? Horrified? Yes, horrified. That was the one.

He understood now that humans could be amazing, could be wonderful and loving and fierce, could make something so wonderful as _music_ and do something so impressive as going to the moon. The fucking moon! But that view, that endless grayness, so full and yet so empty, specked with tenacious bright lights that tried and failed to ward off the monotony of it, filled with so many bright human souls trying to do the same and failing just as much… He hated it. He hated it from the depths of his crooked soul.

Grimmjow took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then downed the remaining third of his beer. Enough of that. They weren’t in the city now. They were in the woods, in the mountains, just the two of them surrounded by nature. Grimmjow couldn’t sense a single human for miles, other than Ichigo. 

Despite this, they were surrounded by life. That was thing thing about the living world, that there was just so much living going on in it. It was just after sunset, the last of the light fading from the sky, so the day creatures were bedding down for the night and the night creatures starting to come out. Songbirds had been swapped for bats, chipmunks for raccoons, hawks for owls. The cicadas were singing their loud, chirring late summer song, and fireflies flashed and swirled in the trees, lighting up to attract their mates. 

They were two unnatural creatures, surrounded by nature, and as far as Grimmjow was concerned, it was glorious.

“Let’s put the fire out,” Grimmjow said after a little while, breaking the hush that had fallen over their campsite. “It’s too warm to hang out by a fire, and there’s a big moon out tonight, so we don’t need it to see.”

“Alright…” Ichigo said, sounding a little dubious, though when Grimmjow looked over he saw his face was a little shiny with sweat from being near the fire on such a hot, humid evening. “You really think we’ll be able to see?”

Grimmjow shrugged. “We’ll always be able to drop out of our bodies if we can’t. I can see just as well in the dark as I can in the daytime without this gigai, and you can see well enough to get by, right? ”

“Fine,” Ichigo agreed, still a little reluctant.

It was the work of only a moment to put the fire out, thanks to the (handy collapsable) bucket of dirt they had reserved for this purpose earlier.

“It’s dark as hell,” Ichigo said a moment later. “I can’t see a thing.”

“Give it a minute. Yer eyes’ll adjust,” Grimmjow told him. Teasingly, he added, “Ya scared of the dark, Ichigo? D’ya want me to hold yer hand?”

“Fuck off,” Ichigo grumbled, an embarrassed quality to his voice that told Grimmjow that yes, he actually kind of would like it if Grimmjow held his hand. An unease with real dark was a common thing in this day and age, Grimmjow had discovered.

Well, if Ichigo wanted the comfort of touch and the reminder that Grimmjow was still here even though he couldn’t see him, who was he to refuse him? He reached out, feeling in Ichigo’s general direction until his hand met Ichigo’s arm. He used that to orient himself, leaning in for a kiss that started out clumsy but got surer as they each worked out where the other was. Ichigo’s lips were soft and, like he’d said, a little greasy with boar fat under Grimmjow’s as he kissed back with a little happy, contented sound. 

It was a good kiss, easy and a bit lazy, both of them still happy and sated from their meal. Definitely, it was better than holding Ichigo’s hand. Grimmjow had meant it as a simple gesture of affection, but Ichigo’s lips felt awful nice under his… He opened his mouth a little more, intending to lick at Ichigo’s bottom lip in that way that always got his undivided attention, but before he could deploy the familiar tactic, Ichigo pulled away abruptly and exclaimed, “Aha! I almost forgot! Dessert!”

“Dessert?” Grimmjow echoed, not really disappointed. The night was young, after all. “Did ya bring me a cake or somethin’? How’d ya keep it from getting squashed in yer backpack?”

He’d told Ichigo not to bring anything like that. His birthday was kind of a silly, arbitrary thing, a random date that Urahara had chosen when he’d acquired Grimmjow’s documentation—birth certificate, ID, that kind of thing. Ichigo insisted, though, that having a day that celebrated your existence was an important thing, so they always observed it anyway.

“No. While you went hunting today, I went exploring and I found some blackberries, so I picked them. They’re good. Hang on…”

Ichigo shuffled and rummaged around, still barely able to see (or perhaps not at all; his night vision was considerably worse than Grimmjow’s). After a moment, he came up with a bowl, which he proffered to Grimmjow. “Try one.”

“You’re sure they aren’t poisonous?” Grimmjow asked, feeling dubious.

“Of course they aren’t poisonous,” Ichigo answered tartly. “I know what a blackberry looks like. Also, if you still don’t believe me, I ate a bunch of them earlier, and I’m fine.”

Grimmjow shrugged and took one of the berries. Unfortunately, he overestimated the amount of force necessary to do this and it squished a bit in his grasp. He popped the damaged berry in his mouth, squishing it the rest of the way with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It was sour; sour and sweet and intensely flavored with just a hint of bitterness, so rich that one small berry filled his whole mouth with flavor. Its flesh was soft and juicy, easily broken apart with his tongue, though it was also full of little seeds. He’d had blackberries before, but this one tasted different than the ones that came in the little plastic box from the supermarket. Sourer, tangier. It was absolutely delicious. 

There was juice on his fingers, so he licked it away. Not the best plan, probably, from a hygiene point of view, but he was sure he’d be fine. His hands still had a light sheen of boar fat and salt and smoke particles clinging to them, so the taste of the blackberry mingled with that to make a strange but not unpleasant combination.

It also gave him an _idea_. He grabbed another berry—he could see well now enough to make out the bowl if not the individual berries—and quickly crushed it against Ichigo’s neck.

“Hey!” Ichigo protested, but then Grimmjow moved in and licked the fruit away with one sweep of his tongue. It tasted even better this way, mingled with the salt of Ichigo’s sweat and the taste of his skin.

He lingered over the spot, trailing open-mouthed, licking kisses over the area to make sure he’d gotten it all. Ichigo, who was incredibly weak to a mouth on his neck, leaned into him and tipped his head to the side to grant Grimmjow better access. While he had him distracted, he grabbed another berry and crushed it against his face, smearing it along his jaw so he could kiss his way up to it and slowly lick it off with a series of little catlike flicks of his tongue, ending with a scrape of his teeth over the bolt of Ichigo’s jaw just for good measure.

“Tastes good,” Grimmjow murmured, finding that his voice had gone a little husky, the familiar burn of desire starting up in his belly and between his legs. His fingers felt hungry for Ichigo’s skin, but he settled for caressing his sides through his shirt for now.

Ichigo turned his head and caught Grimmjow’s mouth in a kiss, and it was clear from the way his tongue impatiently sought entry to Grimmjow’s mouth and his fingers slid into his hair that he was feeling the same excitement as Grimmjow was. Grimmjow made a little sound of approval and met him halfway, the feeling of the thing turning a little dirty as their tongues stroked against each other, slippery-sweet.

When Ichigo pulled away away, he echoed Grimmjow’s words with a voice gone warm and dark like the night around them. “Tastes good.”

Then he lifted one of Grimmjow’s hands from where it had settled on his waist, turning it palm up, and crushed a berry right in the center of it. Grimmjow gasped quietly at the feeling of those lips on his palm, that wicked tongue. There was something highly erotic about having Ichigo eating from his hand, and though he didn’t know quite what it was, he knew he liked it.

Ichigo crushed another berry on his wrist, right over the pulse point, and smeared it up the inside of his arm and kissed his way along it, licking the sweet-sour juice from the thin, delicate skin there. Grimmjow felt spellbound as he watched the slightly-less-dark patch that was Ichigo’s head move up his arm, and he drew in a sharp breath as Ichigo crushed the next berry along the bend of his elbow, a little sighing moan escaping from low in his throat when Ichigo got to the side closer to his body where it was more sensitive. 

It felt like something forbidden to offer up a wrist, the soft inside of an elbow, a part of him that even Ichigo’s dull human teeth could rip open. To a hollow, it was a forbidden thing, such openness, and even after all this time it still felt a little insane. He trusted Ichigo with this and more, trusted him with everything he was, but it wasn’t often that something reminded him of that so forcibly. It felt stupid, it felt amazing; it felt like he had years of well-honed instincts that told him if he jumped off a cliff he’d die, but when Ichigo beckoned him over the edge, he found that he’d had wings all along.

Grimmjow felt Ichigo’s tongue run over the the vein in the center of his arm and shivered when he nipped lightly at the same spot, unconsciously mirroring Grimmjow’s thoughts. _Shit, Ichigo,_ Grimmjow thought as his breath shuddered out of his lungs, suddenly overwhelmed. _I love you so fucking much, so much it hurts._ It did, twisting like hunger pangs in his guts.

When Ichigo’s lips left his skin, the spell that had held Grimmjow motionless was broken and he yanked Ichigo up into another kiss, devouring his mouth, wishing he could crawl inside him, wishing Ichigo would have torn into him and consumed him so Grimmjow could become a part of him. 

Ichigo’s hand was warm and a little sticky on the side of his face, stroking him, gentling him, easing back the sudden surge of emotion. Ichigo’s lips under his let him take whatever he needed the way Ichigo always did, the way that made Grimmjow want to give him everything he had instead. He leaned his forehead against Ichigo’s, just breathing in his breath for a moment, his heart pounding out a rhythm of threes like _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Ichigo’s lips brushed over his once, twice, then Ichigo was kissing him with the kind of gentleness that the two of them rarely showed each other. Grimmjow kissed back carefully, his entire attention focused on the slide-and-cling of their mouths together, and when they pulled apart again he was breathless, they both were, but the desperate ache inside him had receded.

Ichigo’s arms were around him, holding him tight. Grimmjow’s arms were around Ichigo, holding on hard and never letting go.

The solidity of Ichigo’s body against him, the whipcord-tough shape of him that youthful slenderness had become, felt exactly as good as Ichigo’s strong arms around him, which was to say that it felt like something so good he could barely believe he was allowed to have it, but the fact of the matter was that it was sweltering out here even without the fire. Their proximity made Grimmjow’s already overheated skin feel hotter, the air so humid that that sweating didn’t cool his body the way it should. His clothes were sticking to him, and Ichigo’s shirt felt damp under his hands, uncomfortable and unnecessary.

“I love you,” Grimmjow whispered, “Now take your shirt off.”

Ichigo laughed softly, a huff that Grimmjow felt more than heard as they separated just enough to peel their t-shirts off.

They crashed back together, all hands and mouths in the dark, clutching clumsily as they found each other again. Ichigo’s chest was hot and sweaty-sticky-slick against his, the two of their skins catching and clinging whenever they met, Ichigo’s hands roaming his back, his own hands skimming up Ichigo’s abs and chest, up his neck and back into his hair.

Both of their mouths were wide open, now, pressed together hotly and sharing each other’s breath as they breathed through their mouths because neither of them were self-conscious enough to try not to anymore. It amazed Grimmjow that this was still so good, that he could never ever get tired of making out with Ichigo. Kissing had seemed so silly at first, he remembered, but that was only before he tried it with Ichigo. 

It was a way—the only way that worked sometimes—to express his feelings for Ichigo and understand the reverse; also it made him so fucking hot he couldn’t stand it. The way it felt to have his tongue in Ichigo’s mouth reminded him of the way it felt to be inside him—his dick inside him, the heat of his body around him—despite the fact that the two sensations were totally different, and it made him crave it with the kind of fervor usually reserved for the oxygen-craving of people who were suffocating.

They were sitting on a log, side by side, and Grimmjow had had just about enough of that. He rose, pulling Ichigo up with him and back down again on the grass of the little glade they were camped out in. He told him, “Lay back.” 

Ichigo did so, sprawling on his back in the grass, looking up at Grimmjow. The moonlight turned the usual orange and gold colors of him silvery and pale, and as soon as Grimmjow saw the white expanse of his torso laid out against he grass, he knew what he wanted to do. Fuck, what he _had_ to do. Probably he shouldn’t, but Ichigo already knew him through and through so Grimmjow didn’t think he was gonna scare him off tonight. Besides, now that he’d thought of it, he needed to see it.

He’d thought he was done with the berries but this time he grabbed a whole handful of them and squeezed, dripping juice over Ichigo’s chest. He could hear his own breathing, and he knew it was too fast.

Grimmjow leaned closer, to whisper in Ichigo’s ear, “Don’t take this the wrong way,” then he smeared the crushed berries in a long, gory-looking streak across the pale center of Ichigo’s belly, diagonal like the slash of a blade, and pressed his juice-covered hand to Ichigo’s hip to leave a claiming handprint there. 

“Fuck, Ichigo,” he breathed as he took in his handiwork, palming his cock with his clean hand, sucking the berry juice of his other one and imagining it was Ichigo’s blood instead. He’d never fucked Ichigo when he was that as badly wounded as he looked right now, but they’d come close a couple times. When they fought—and they still did—it couldn’t end with the kind of consummation fights should end with, so they had to end it somehow. Instead of driving his blade into Ichigo’s body or vice-versa, he settled for his cock, or Ichigo did, depending.

Ichigo laughed, low and hot, not amused but instead sounding unexpectedly pleased. He had one hand on Grimmjow’s waist and with the other he traced the edge of his fake wound. “Does it turn you on, Grimmjow?”

There was an echo of the warbling tone of his other self in his voice—not all the way, just a hint.

“Yes,” Grimmjow admitted, not nearly as ashamed as he thought he probably should be. He couldn’t undo what innumerable years of life as a Hollow had taught him was pleasurable, though he could add to it and change it a bit. He bent, mouthing at the edge of the streak near the bottom, nuzzling at Ichigo’s vulnerable belly. 

It just fucking floored him every time Ichigo bared his belly, bared his throat. It felt reckless and crazy when it was Grimmjow doing it, but it _was_ reckless and crazy for Ichigo to do it, like letting a tiger walk by your side not even on a leash. He trusted Grimmjow so much that sometimes he couldn’t bear the weight of it. Mostly, though, he was just intensely grateful for Ichigo’s faith in him.

Ichigo trusted him despite the fact that he knew Grimmjow got off on the idea of ripping him open, of quite literally devouring him.

“It turns me on, too,” Ichigo confessed softly, guiding Grimmjow’s hand to cup his erection through his pants.

Grimmjow groaned and nipped sharply at Ichigo’s belly (which was a bit difficult because of how little fat there was on it,) making him gasp. Ichigo was every bit as hard as he was, and that was… “Yer as crazy as I am, ya know that?”

Ichigo laughed again and fired back, “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Well, no,” Grimmjow conceded. “But ya fake it so well that sometimes I forget.”

Ichigo couldn’t answer because he was too busy quivering as Grimmjow started the process of licking and kissing up the sweet, sticky trail he had created for himself—he was about equal parts aroused and trying not to laugh, Grimmjow guessed. It had been a terrible day for Ichigo when Grimmjow discovered that his lover was ticklish. 

The tremors that ran though his body reminded Grimmjow of the way he might shudder in pain if Grimmjow was licking and kissing the edges of the long gash the smear of juice resembled. No, not just the edges; he wanted to feel along the insides of the thing with his tongue, touch parts of Ichigo that he shouldn’t be able to touch, taste parts of him that he shouldn’t be able to taste. Wanted Ichigo to be his all the way through; wanted to take him into himself…

He deftly and quickly flicked open Ichigo’s fly, tugging his boxers down to snap under his balls, and swallowed him down all at once, as far as he could, greedy for the taste of it, for the weight of it on his tongue, for Ichigo in him.

“Holy fuck!” Ichigo gasped, the words tumbling out of his mouth on a breathy rush, “Ohshitohshitohshit, _Grimmjow_ …”

The corners of Grimmjow’s mouth turned up as much as they could, stretched out as they were around his lover’s cock. Ichigo had been shy at first but he’d become quite vocal as he’d grown more confident in his sexuality and their partnership, now Grimmjow delighted in the quantity and variety of sounds he could pull from him. 

“Ah, shit, you’re gonna— _ohh…_ ”  Ichigo’s warning that this wasn’t going to take long—for Grimmjow had heard enough of those to know what they sounded like—dissipated into a long, low moan as Grimmjow started bobbing up and down, sucking hard, moving fast. His action was answer enough—Grimmjow had no interest in drawing this out. He wanted Ichigo’s come in his mouth, wanted to taste it, wanted to taste _him_ , wanted to swallow it, wanted to consume him, even just a little bit. He wanted to take Ichigo into himself, and if he couldn’t do it all the way he’d take what he could get.

As a general rule, Grimmjow didn’t love sucking cock as much as Ichigo did, in fact he specialized more in pleasuring Ichigo with his hands, much to his partner’s, well, pleasure. (“You know how TV used to just be like second-rate movies and now it’s it’s own art form that’s different but equally good? It’s like that, except your hand jobs are TV and blowjobs are movies,” Ichigo had once commented.) He liked the way Ichigo’s dick fit in his hand more than the almost overwhelming feeling of having it in his mouth. Ichigo got off hard on that uncomfortable, panicky, much-too-much feeling of having a thick cock shoved down his throat (a fact which struck Grimmjow as a piece of undeserved but much appreciated good fortune on his part) but truth be told, Grimmjow wasn’t really into it.

However, all that being said, there were times that he could see the appeal. Right now was one of those times. Ichigo’s dick felt big and hot in his mouth, swollen heavy in his excitement, and the skin was so soft, so delicate, driving home the point that this was another vulnerable place, another act of insane trust on Ichigo’s part. He could feel the throb of Ichigo’s life's blood through his veins if he pressed his tongue in the right spot, his pulse tripping along as fast as if he’d been running for his life.

Grimmjow pulled off for a moment, distracted, suddenly wanting to nuzzle Ichigo’s balls where they were drawn up against his body in a firm little orange-furred pouch. He liked the scent of them, musky and strong from a day hiking around outside—it was one of those things that society told you was gross but everyone knew that in this kind of circumstance it was sexy as hell.  Anyway, they were being cavemen, right? Certainly, it felt like something a caveman would get off on.

Ichigo made a sound like a kind of groaning hum as Grimmjow opened his mouth wide over his sac, lapping at it, laving it with his tongue, running the tip of it along his seam. The taste turned him on every bit as much as the smell, even though he knew Ichigo was probably embarrassed not to be cleaner and smelling of his Old Spice shower gel. Too bad for him, because Grimmjow liked him like this, all-natural.   

Grimmjow swallowed him down again, digression over and mission to make Ichigo come resumed, and Ichigo fucking _keened,_ his hands pressing down on Grimmjow in the way he only ever did when he was too caught up in his own pleasure to realize he was doing it.

He didn’t have the level of technique and finesse that Ichigo had in this, and he couldn’t deep throat very effectively, but fortunately his lover didn’t seem to mind his shortcomings in the art of giving head. Ichigo’s back was arched, his head thrown back, his hips flexing under Grimmjow’s hands as his body tried to fuck up deeper into his mouth, and his hands alternately hanging on to Grimmjow’s hair or trying to shove him down further… It didn’t take someone who could read him as well as Grimmjow could to tell Ichigo was majorly enjoying himself right now, or rather, enjoying Grimmjow.

And then there were the sounds spilling out of Ichigo’s lips and into the night air without even a token attempt to keep them in. He was moaning basically nonstop, only taking breaks to curse and rasp out Grimmjow’s name and occasionally groan little disjointed phrases of praise like “your _mouth_ ” or “feels so fucking… nnn…”

Grimmjow was so fucking hard. He didn’t usually get so turned on from doing this but the _taste_ of him, fuck, and the way salty, slippery pre-come spilled slickly over his tongue—he loved how wet Ichigo got, loved the sounds he made, loved that he could make him like this with just his mouth. Loved that he could still see Ichigo’s pale skin with sticky dark smears all over it, including that handprint on his hip. Grimmjow wanted that to stay there forever—wanted to tattoo his mark of possession onto Ichigo’s skin.

He was momentarily consumed with the desire to mark Ichigo with something more lasting, something that would bruise darkly and stay for days. Well, what he really wanted was to bite into him hard enough to scar so it would be there forever, but he knew that was going too far, so he’d settle. He pulled off Ichigo’s cock, making him moan in dismay, and bit hard at the skin just to the center of his hipbone, sucking, leaving deep furrows in the skin from his teeth, just short of hard enough to draw blood.

Ichigo just fucking groaned in that wonderful, broken way he only did when Grimmjow bit him, his dick twitching hard enough to smack the side of Grimmjow’s neck where it was stretched out over him, the kinky little fucker. There. Now when the handprint was was washed away there would be a fairly spectacular bite mark there to take its place.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Grimmjow sucked Ichigo down again, groaning around him at the feel of it. A lot of the time he didn’t like the way Ichigo’s cock felt so massive in his mouth, invasive and unyielding, not providing him with any kind of direct stimulation to make up for it. But right now… Right now, though, it was exactly what he wanted, the way there was nothing else but this, his mouth stretched wide to take Ichigo in, filling himself with the taste of him, eating him up, Ichigo’s flesh in his mouth, a willing sacrifice to Grimmjow’s hunger.

He wanted Ichigo’s come in his mouth so badly, craved the feeling of struggling to swallow it all, and he knew he was going to get it soon. Ichigo’s body was trembling under Grimmjow’s hands, his cock so hard in Grimmjow’s mouth, twitching on his tongue and so fucking ready to spit its load into Grimmjow’s eager throat.

“Oh fuck, now,” Ichigo panted, his hands tightening painfully in Grimmjow’s hair. “Now, now, now, now, _now, ah, ah-haah…_ ”

Fuck yeah, he was coming, and despite the warning it still felt like a surprise. So much, it always felt like so much, a flood of it, a sudden bounty like a the Nile bursting its banks. It didn’t taste good but it was Ichigo, Ichigo’s come, from Ichigo’s body, part of it, part of _him._ His _seed_ , spilled as a sacrifice on the barren ground of Grimmjow’s tongue. He was determined to swallow every last drop and so he did, moaning in pure arousal around his lover’s cock, still sucking hard as it spurted warm, thick, salty fluid onto the back of Grimmjow’s tongue.

He kept it up until Ichigo’s grip on his hair had turned to gently petting him, until his groans had turned to sensitized whimpers, and then he pulled off and allowed himself to be tugged into a messy kiss. 

Ichigo kissed him sloppily, gratefully, but Grimmjow was as much occupied with grinding his aching cock against his lover’s hip as he was anything else. Fuck, but he wanted to come. Needed it. It was kinda stupid how much that thing with the berries had turned him on, but it had and sucking Ichigo off was just what he’d needed to follow it up. The thought that he had Ichigo’s seed in his belly now was enough to sate that old hollow hunger to consume even as it turned him on all over again with each mental repetition, making his dick jerk against the confines of his jeans and making his skin flush hot and prickly with desire. Shit, he needed it. He needed to get off and didn’t much care how it happened.

“You wanna fuck me?” Ichigo asked when they broke apart, “Or you wanna save that for round two? You can come up here and fuck my mouth instead. I’d offer you a real blowjob but I don’t wanna move.”

Grimmjow snorted a little laugh at that despite his near-overwhelming desire. “Sexy, Ichigo. Love the enthusiasm.” 

“I am enthusiastic! Just… enthusiastically sated, for now. That was fucking _great,_ though. You should give me head outside more often.”

“What’s outside got to do with anything?” Grimmjow asked absently as he sat up to unzip his pants, contemplating whether taking them off entirely was worth the effort. 

He decided it was, so he got that sorted as Ichigo replied, “I dunno… Something about the night air on my skin, I think. I like it.”

“Mmm,” Grimmjow agreed. He liked doing it outside, too. 

“We’re like forest animals,” Ichigo mused.

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, even though he kind of doubted Ichigo could see it. He could barely make out Ichigo’s face, so he bet Ichigo couldn’t tell much beyond where he was. “I thought we were cavemen. Looks like we’re devolvin’.”

“That’s a good thing to do as the night goes on, don’t you think?” Ichigo mused, and Grimmjow could hear the warmth, the love, in his voice. He knew his eyes had gone all fond and melty, though he couldn’t see him well enough to see them. Fond and melty with a side of banked heat. “I want to keep devolving so by the time midnight rolls around you won’t be able to do anything but fuck me like I’m your jaguaress in heat and I won’t be able to do anything but take it.”

Okay, so maybe the heat wasn’t the side dish.

“Yeah,” Grimmjow agreed roughly, stroking his dick to ease the sudden surge of arousal at the vision Ichigo’s words conjured. “Fuck yeah, good plan. Later. Later I’ll fuck ya so good every damn thing in this whole forest’ll hear ya screamin’ my name. Right now, though, I want this _mouth_.”

He moved to straddle Ichigo’s shoulders, hand around the base of his dick. As he carefully lifted his hips, his voice came out low and husky, barely more than a growl. “Open up for me, baby.”

Ichigo made a soft sound of desire as he opened his mouth wide, tongue stuck out a little bit, and Grimmjow felt his dick twitch in his hand, wanting to be in there. He canted his hips forward a little more, still guiding with his hand, slowly feeding Ichigo his dick.

“Oh, _fuck_ yes,” Grimmjow sighed, having nothing else to say. It felt so _good_ , shit, _Ichigo…_ So good, so good, so goddamn fucking good…

His eyes fell shut and his head fell back as he focused all his effort on establishing a relatively slow, relatively easy pace so Ichigo wouldn’t choke. This was a position that provoked roughness, that inspired an uncaring pursuit of his own pleasure, but that wasn’t what he was in the mood for tonight. Or, that wasn’t what he was in the mood for right now, anyway.

Instead he set his body in a slow roll, the sensitive underside of the head of his dick pressed to the magnificent velvet of Ichigo’s tongue. “Ya feel so good, Ichigo…”

Ichigo’s hands ran up the backs of his thighs, one reaching under him to fondle his balls, rolling them on his palm, squeezing lightly, making Grimmjow groan and rock his hips just a little harder. He loved that, loved when Ichigo touched him like that. His other hand squeezed and kneaded his ass, pulling him forward a little in a silent message of, “More, I can take it.”

Grimmjow’s attention was drawn away from Ichigo under him as he felt his hair being ruffled by a strong breeze that had blown up out of nowhere, distracting him as it disturbed the oppressive stillness of the humid night air. He inhaled deeply, scenting the air, grinning as he took in the smell of ozone and water, the electric scorched-air smell of an oncoming storm. “A storm’s coming.”

Fuck, he loved storms. He could feel the energy of the thing coming on fast, prickling over his skin, and sure enough, there was a flash of lightning, and there was another. He counted the seconds, but he didn’t need to count too high—he only got to three. About three miles away then. Must have just congealed out of the hot night, or else they ought to have heard it coming a while ago, although maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention. He wanted to stay out in it, but he thought maybe Ichigo would want to take shelter in their tent, though that really was a pitiful amount of shelter.

Ichigo poked him in the thigh and he withdrew, looking down at his lover questioningly. Ichigo said, “Lemme up. I changed my mind—I want you to fuck me. I’ve always wanted to do it outside in a thunderstorm and I’ll drown if we stay like this.”

Grimmjow grinned wider as he moved to let Ichigo up. “Did ya bring the waterproof lube?”

“Of course!” Ichigo replied cheerfully, heading to their pack, shucking his jeans en route and stuffing them in the pack when he got there, grabbing the lube out of a side pocket. “‘Always be prepared’—it’s the Boy Scout motto.”

“You ain’t any boy scout,” Grimmjow pointed out, at which Ichigo turned around and flashed him a wicked smile.“You’re right.”

The wind picked up another notch, howling through the trees around them and Ichigo grinned at him, wide and wild as Grimmjow’s own smile, briefly illuminated in the blue-white light of lightning arcing across the sky. Fucking perfect, that’s what he was. Grimmjow should have known better than to think he’d want to hide from the weather.

Grimmjow pulled his partner hard against him, kissing him, and the prospect of the storm seemed to have renewed Ichigo’s energy because he kissed back hungrily, almost violently, their teeth clacking and their lips crushed together hard enough to bruise, hands clutching at each other’s skin.

They tumbled to the ground in a disorganized pile of limbs, each trying to bear the other down to it and neither exactly succeeding. They straightened out quickly enough, ending up with Ichigo on top, his legs astride Grimmjow’s hips, grinding against him as their kisses turned hungrier still, fierce.

“C’mon,” Ichigo complained when they broke apart. “Get your fingers in me, Jaegerjaques. And just go from two.”

Grimmjow leaned up to bite at Ichigo’s neck in chastisement, but he still obeyed, not about to argue with this sudden rush. He still hadn’t come yet, so he was down to get on with this in a hurry. Maybe Ichigo wanted them to already have started when the storm hit? The temperature was starting to drop, now, so surely the rain could’t be far behind. After such a hot, sticky day, the cool, damp wind felt amazing.

He slicked up his fingers and reached around to press them unerringly to Ichigo’s hole, sinking one inside and withdrawing it only to push them both in. He felt amazing, tight but yielding, so very hot. Ichigo’s head lolled forward and he groaned, his eyes falling shut as Grimmjow’s fingers worked him open, occasionally brushing against that spot inside him that made him gasp every time.

Grimmjow was a tease by nature—he liked the control it gave him—so he often liked to draw this part out far beyond what was necessary for a couple who did this as much as they did, but this wasn’t the time for that. Grimmjow had taken on the beginning of the storm as a deadline, too, a now drop of rain hit him on the forehead, and Ichigo jumped as another one hit him. 

He was withdrawing his fingers before Ichigo even said, “Good enough.” It would hurt a bit for Ichigo, but not enough to worry either of them, so he just slicked up his cock as lightning crackled through the sky and its thunder boomed overhead almost immediately. He let Ichigo take over, then, grabbing hold of his dick by the base and guiding himself down onto it and—

Oh, _fuck._ They hadn’t done it with so little prep in a long time and Grimmjow had to force himself to grit his teeth and stay still with a wordless groan. _Damn,_ but he was tight.

For his part, Ichigo sank down on him with a moan that sounded simultaneously ecstatic and pained (one of Grimmjow’s very favorite flavors of his lover’s moans.) He panted through what had to be an uncomfortable stretch as the rain started sprinkling them, more than a spattering of drops but not yet more than a shower yet despite the driving wind.

Grimmjow propped himself up on his hands, sitting halfway upright so the rain didn’t go in his nose and mouth, and was very glad he had a moment later when the clouds burst above them and rain started pouring down. Ichigo laughed with joy and while the sound was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain, Grimmjow shuddered at the way it made the muscles inside him quiver.

He had his eyes closed because of the rain, so he didn’t get a visual warning when Ichigo decided to start moving, bouncing on him shallowly, keeping Grimmjow’s dick buried so deep inside him. Grimmjow moved with him, fucking up into him with short little thrusts, trying to get as deep inside as he could, wanting as much of that tight heat as he could possibly get.

The rain was cool, almost cold, driven over them in sheets by the wind, and the inside of Ichigo’s body felt impossibly hot in comparison. His skin felt hot, too, where it touched Grimmjow’s, and he wanted more of it so he sat up straighter, supporting his weight with one hand and pulling Ichigo to him with the other as thunder drowned out their sounds and the sound of the rain alike. 

Ichigo got the message and leaned down to kiss Grimmjow with his hot mouth, an ecstatic, rain-drenched kiss, all big movements, Ichigo’s tongue sweeping into his mouth and his own tongue licking animal-like at Ichigo’s lips, their mouths wide open as they came together and pulled apart again.

Then Ichigo pulled back and braced his hands on Grimmjow’s shoulders as he shifted from his knees to a crouch, his weight on the balls of his feet, and started to ride him with everything he had. It startled a shout of pleasure from him, louder than he usually was, loud enough to be heard above the roar of the wind and rain. Ichigo echoed it back in a high, throaty cry as he fucked himself on Grimmjow’s cock, picking himself up and letting gravity bring him down again and again.

The rain slacked off a little, just enough that Grimmjow could open his eyes without the water stinging them. Lightning flashed, illuminating Ichigo on top of him, striking Grimmjow breathless with his beauty. He looked like some kind of storm god, lit up in that apocalyptic blue-white, his mouth open and his face gone slack in pure pleasure as he rode Grimmjow for all he was worth, his hand working his own cock as he did it. He was magnificent, and Grimmjow felt like some mortal who had the good fortune to be loved and used by such an elemental creature, to be ridden by Thor himself.

When the thunder rolled it came from Ichigo’s throat and when the lightning flashed it came from his eyes, an expression of his pleasure, throwing the unbelievable beauty of his face into stark relief. Grimmjow felt helpless before this Ichigo, as helpless as he was before the storm itself, and he knew he was making all kinds of sounds, the gibbering of a man confronted with the soul-searing beauty of his god, overwhelmed and overawed, taken over by the lovestruck, awestruck ache in his chest and the familiar-made-strange pleasure of his lover's body clutching at him; the greedy, grasping embrace of him, pulling Grimmjow into him.

The rain poured down over them, running in rivulets down Grimmjow's chest to pool in the cup of his hips so every time Ichigo dropped down it splashed and sloshed between them, audible over the sound of the rain. The cool water on Grimmjow's skin, dripping over his balls and sloshing around the base of his dick, felt strange as it chilled his overheated flesh and contrasted sharply, strangely, with the burning heat of Ichigo's body. It was like when you come in from outside in the winter and what's merely warm feels too hot, Ichigo's body almost scalding him, the sensation intensified by the prickly friction where the lube had partially washed away.

It was so dark now, the storm clouds blocking out the moon and stars, and he couldn’t see at all except when the lightening flashed. Ichigo only appeared in staccato, strobing, and it added to the unreal, otherworldly feeling of their coupling, the way Grimmjow could feel him even when he saw nothing but darkness.

Ichigo moved with total abandon, fucking himself wildly, ecstatically, and the next time lightning flashed Grimmjow saw his eyes were open and locked on Grimmjow’s face, just as wild as the way he moved. He saw something there, though, that told him Ichigo needed him, needed him to do what he did best, so he surged up, toppling him over onto his back. Grimmjow ended up on top of him with Ichigo’s legs around his waist, the two of them landing with a splash in the puddled water. 

Ichigo arched up and kissed him like a madman, devouring him, delirious, and the only answer Grimmjow had was to fuck him, driving into him hard, making his back bow and a ragged, almost-a-scream moan claw its way out of his throat. The reality of this slammed into Grimmjow as he slammed into Ichigo and all of a sudden there was nothing otherworldly about it at all, just Ichigo under him where he belonged, clinging to him with his arms and his legs and his ass while the rain beat down on Grimmjow’s back and the thunder rolled off into the night.

He was going to come and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it except fuck Ichigo harder and let it happen. It had snuck up on him while he was busy being awestruck by Ichigo and the storm, the pleasure building to past the point of no return, and he ought to warn Ichigo or ask if he was close too but he didn’t have the breath as he cradled the back of Ichigo’s skull with his hand and lifted his head up so he could bite at his mouth and shove his tongue inside, once again ravenous for him.

Ichigo whimpered against his mouth and it tasted like _yeah, me too,_ and Grimmjow moaned against his lips as he jolted them back across the wet ground in a smear of mud on skin, once more, twice, a snarl on his lips as his whole body locked up for a moment at the peak before the wave of his orgasm broke over him like a thunderclap and he was coming, spilling, overflowing into Ichigo. His eyes fell shut and his mouth went slack against Ichigo’s, truly overwhelmed by the all-consuming pleasure of it, and a distant part of him noted that this was a really fucking good orgasm but the rest of him just rocked into Ichigo as he rode it out, panting as he emptied himself.

He opened his eyes and saw Ichigo looking up at him the same way he must have looked up at Ichigo a little while ago and that was not as it should be but he loved it anyway, loved Ichigo more than anything and wanted him to look at him like that forever whether or not he deserved it. 

He leaned down to speak directly into Ichigo’s ear and said, “Tell me what ya want.”

“Just a little more, just kiss me and give me a little more,” Ichigo answered, breathless. 

So Grimmjow kissed him and gave him a little more, his range of motion limited by keeping them close enough to kiss, but that seemed to be what Ichigo wanted, the two of them pressed together with Grimmjow kept deep inside him. The storm was waning, the thunder quieter and the rain gentler, and it seemed like Ichigo wanted to go a little easier, too, now, though he was stroking himself fast, the way he did when he wanted to get off. 

Grimmjow felt him starting to go rigid, not all at once but gradually, his moans catching in his throat as his back slowly pulled into a taut arch until he finally came, warm against Grimmjow’s belly, his mouth moving in slow motion under Grimmjow’s and his soft moans buzzing against Grimmjow’s lips, the rain quiet enough now that he could hear them in all their heart-warming, heart-rending glory. 

They kissed for a long time as their hearts slowed, and Grimmjow’s brain was running on low power post-coital mode so he was not so much thinking as just feeling Ichigo’s skin against his and the exultant flourishes of the way he kissed, the corners of both their mouths wanting to turn up as they tried to catch their breath if only they could stop kissing for long enough. 

But then Grimmjow had a thought. It was the first one in a while.

“Hey,” he said, pulling back. “We should get up and wash this mud an’ berry juice off before it stops rainin’.”

Ichigo grinned up at him. “I’ve got a better bathing plan. You know what else I found today? A hot spring.”

Grimmjow felt his eyes widen at this excellent news. He loved hot springs. That actually sounded like the single greatest possible thing right now. He was cold from the rain and feeling a bit drowsy, entirely ready to laze around. “Is it far?”

“Nah. It’s like a quarter mile and it’s an easy walk. You wanna go?”

The rain stopped. Well, fortunately they had a vastly superior plan B for getting clean.

“Absolutely. We’ll have to take a flashlight, though. Should we put on our clothes, ya think?”

Ichigo thought about this for a moment, and then decided, “Nah. We’re forest animals tonight, remember? And there are hardly any mosquitos around. Stick on our flip-flops and we’re good to go.”

Grimmjow grinned, more dopey than feral, and said, “You’re the fuckin’ greatest.”

He couldn’t help it. He’d been feeling a little squishy all day, and after that, well…

Ichigo smirked up at him. “I know. Now come on, hot spring time.”

Wake up outside, walk to a different place and set up camp, go hunting, make a fire, cook up some boar, have awesome blackberry-thunderstorm sex with Ichigo and go to a hot spring? This was the greatest birthday ever.

He rose and offered Ichigo a hand to pull him to his feet just as the clouds uncovered the big, waxing three-quarters moon and moonlight flooded the little glen, shining silvery off Ichigo’s skin. Ichigo smiled at him as he went to put on his sandals, looking absolutely radiant in the balmy summer night.“Looks like we won’t need that flashlight after all, huh? Look.”

Grimmjow looked up at the sky and saw it was full of stars, so many more stars than they ordinarily saw in the city and a moon that changed phases instead of being stuck as a perpetual crescent. “Hey, Ichigo?”

“Yeah?”

Grimmjow looked away, color coming to his cheeks despite all the reasons it shouldn’t. “Thanks.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I remember reading a Trigun Vash/Wolfwood fanfic once long long ago (I'm talking around 12 years) where they had sex outside in a thunderstorm. I don't remember much else about it--I think there was like a lot of mud? And Vash had to clean out his heart thingy? But anyway, I love thunderstorms so the idea stuck with me, though I unfortunately have yet to execute it IRL. #lifegoals #wimpyboyfriends
> 
> Also I'm curious what people thought of this, because it's somewhat less explicit than my usual. Was it still hot? If not, was it worth it anyway?


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